I'd Rather Be With You Page 5

  Women were intellectual, but they were also irrational. Madison was my child. In many ways I knew her better than she knew herself. I’d anticipated she’d change her mind. Not because she didn’t want me to have control of her finances. She was a woman. Add that to her being pregnant and having breast cancer, and my daughter was an emotional time bomb on the verge of having a nervous breakdown.

  A week had gone by since we’d escaped the media at the hospital. Madison hadn’t left my house or the country. She hadn’t stopped yapping about having an abortion, and my business was beginning to fall apart. I had to get her out of my home and on my private plane to Miami so I could stop tap-dancing around what I had to do.

  I sat facing her. The rectangular coffee table separated the identical sofas. “Madison, sweetheart. If you’re not leaving for another week, the least you can do is help me with the paperwork for the company. Go get out of that silk nightgown. Come, go to the office with me, make some phone calls, or something. The city’s accounts payable folks are slow sending the payments and they won’t return my calls.”

  My daughter stretched her back across my chocolate leather sofa; then she stared at the ceiling as though she was a patient and I was her therapist. Turning onto her side, she rolled her eyes at me, then focused on the flat screen above the fireplace. On the TV Judge Joe Brown was awarding the plaintiff $4,000.

  “You don’t run the company, Papa. I do. But you’re so eager to get rid of me, you don’t care that I have a doctor’s appointment today. Handle it yourself. You keep saying a week. I’ve told you, unless it’s for a vacation, I’m not going overseas. Stop calling, go down to the city, and find out what’s happening.”

  Damn it, if this girl isn’t as stubborn as her old man . . .

  Rosalee sat at Madison’s feet; then she gave me that piercing glance that silently said, “Johnny, I’ve told you, stop messing with my child.”

  Hmm.

  She was being a mom. I was being a man. I didn’t respond. I had to think this through.

  “Her appointment is more important,” my wife said, “and she doesn’t need to be upset. She’s about to go under the knife soon. Madison is right. You figure it out.”

  If the company folded and Madison didn’t have insurance coverage, bet she’d be willing to help. My wife sat next to my daughter. My wife had her breasts removed years ago. My daughter was about to have the same done any day now. Who gave a damn how I felt?

  If I wouldn’t have to split my acquisitions fifty-fifty, I’d file for a divorce. I loved Rosalee, but I was no longer in love with her. We used to travel the world, go out on dates, and enjoy watching movies together. Not anymore. Rosalee had become a real homebody. Cooking and cleaning for our daughter. Eating and sleeping, when she wasn’t cooking or cleaning, made her happy. Sex with my wife wasn’t the same either. I bet when that baby gets here, that’ll completely take Rosalee from me.

  “The only thing I’m concerned about is my health,” Madison said. “I wish you cared as much as Mother.”

  Cared as much as the mother who didn’t care enough to tell her daughter she’d had a double mastectomy? The mother who didn’t make sure her daughter had early breast exams even though she knew there was a family history? Rosalee needed to get off her guilt trip and stop babying Madison.

  I was no fool. I wasn’t going there. But I was getting tired of listening to them. I stood over Madison and said, “You already know your damn health status. You have breast cancer and you’re pregnant. That’s not going to change, sweetheart. You need to keep the baby. If it’s Chicago’s, we can possibly lock in more money when old man Wally, his grandfather, kicks the bucket.”

  A brilliant idea entered my mind. I had to find a way to pay off the lab technician that would process Madison’s paternity test. Regardless to whose DNA the baby had, the results would show Chicago is the father. A giant smile grew inside me.

  I didn’t want to switch directions on my position. I told my daughter, “If you’re not going to help me, you are going to El Salvador. And that’s final.”

  “Johnny Tyler, you stop it right now!”

  Madison dropped her forehead into her hands. “Leave me alone, Papa. Can you do that? Please . . . just go away.”

  I could do that. “Okay, after you take me to Chicago’s condo so we can go through his statements and taxes. I keep telling you that you have the right to access his accounts legally. You’re his wife. And we’ve got to do this before his family does.”

  Looking up at me, she answered, “And he’s still alive, Papa.”

  Desperate to avoid my next move, I told her, “But not for long.”

  This time my daughter screamed, “What news have you been watching? He’s getting better every day!”

  “You can’t believe what you hear on TV. Go up there to the hospital and find out for yourself. I don’t understand you, Madison. You hold all the cards, and you don’t want to do anything to help me.”

  This time she jumped up. “That’s because I don’t understand your motive!”

  “Where are you going, little girl?”

  “To my house, so you can stop stressing me out.”

  Oh no! Anywhere except her house. I hugged my baby girl. “I’m sorry. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or the baby. Stay here with your mother. Rosalee, calm your daughter down. I’m going to the office. I’ll handle everything by myself. Call me after your appointment, sweetheart, and let Papa know how things went.”

  “I’m going to take a nap before I go to the doctor,” Madison said, heading upstairs.

  “Johnny, you’ve done it before. You can save our company again,” my wife said. “Hire a consultant.”

  Rosalee was a housewife and hadn’t worked one day for the business. She just didn’t understand how strapped we were. Get a consultant with what money? I kissed her lips. We didn’t open our mouths anymore. Didn’t remember when that started, but I was not the one who initiated it. “I’ll be back.”

  Getting into my Porsche, I phoned a different fraternity brother from the frat brother that did the notary, then cruised out of my driveway.

  “Hey, Johnny. We still on?”

  “I’m in motion. I’ll meet you there in a half hour.” I ended the call, then speed-dialed my wife.

  Rosalee answered, saying, “You okay, honey?”

  “I’m good. Watch Madison closely. Don’t let her leave the house without you. Make sure she returns to our house after her appointment. I don’t want her going to her place. She shouldn’t be alone.”

  “She’s already asleep. She’s been napping a lot since she took her husband off of the respirator. I think she’s going through depression, so you’re going to have to lighten up on her. Oh, by the way, you look nice in your new suit.”

  “That’s why I love you. Bye, honey. I’ll see you tonight.”

  It had been years since I was going to the office every day. Turning the business over to Madison had kept me out of trouble. Hiring young, attractive, and smart girls as my secretary was legit. Putting personal assistants on payroll was my way of paying for pussy and their only job was to keep “big papa” satisfied.

  Marrying Rosalee was the best decision I’d made my entire life. She knew her place. Like lots of wives in Houston, Rosalee was faithful to a fault. The man in me preferred it that way. My wife never talked down to me. Most of the time she had no idea what I was up to. When she did find out, I begged her to stay and she did. I loved Rosalee through her double mastectomy. That was genuine. Was glad she didn’t get implants. Didn’t want men getting stuck in my wife’s headlights.

  I didn’t know what I’d do without her and never wanted to find out. Better to ask for her forgiveness because I didn’t need her permission.

  Leaving our home in River Oaks, I headed toward San Felipe and Post Oak, the location of my Westheimer project. My construction employees were hard at work—but not for long if I didn’t get it together. I still wasn’t clear on that Granville g
uy’s involvement with my Madison and how it all started. Think I’d pay him a visit one day. Wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

  A few blocks and a couple of turns, I was at my destination. My frat brother was already there. I parked in Madison’s driveway. We got out of our cars at the same time.

  “Hey, man. Thanks for helping us out,” I said, patting him on the back.

  “Anything I can do to help, you know that. Shall we go inside?”

  Unlocking the front door to my daughter’s house, I gave him a tour. Showed him the security camera upgrade Madison had done. Oh, shit. I prayed she was asleep and not watching us on her cell phone. I went to the control panel. Turned off the surveillance system.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I said.

  “I’m putting my ass on the line here for you, Johnny. You’re going to have to do the same.”

  “Not a problem,” I said, almost sounding like Madison.

  “Sure you feel up to this?” he asked, following me up the stairs.

  Opening one of the guest bedroom doors, I said, “Positive.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Granville

  “She took him off of that breathing machine because she thought he was going to die,” No Chainz said.

  “We keep going over this, but is he right?” I asked, looking at G-double-A. “Is he?”

  The three of us were huddled at our usual round steel table, with those immovable stools. Lunch today was sausage link sandwiches and fries. A few inmates tried to sit in with us and listen, but I encouraged them to go elsewhere within the common area—if they didn’t want my trouble.

  I learned you could be decent up in here and stay out of trouble if you had what others wanted but couldn’t get, didn’t join a gang, and occupied your free time educating yourself on the law library computer by doing research for your case. I had a mini concession stand in my cell loaded with snacks. If an inmate didn’t have money to buy his own, or his family and friends didn’t visit, or if I wanted him to get off the computer, I’d let him have a treat. Some took advantage, pretending they were working on the computer just to get some M&M’S or Doritos. Long as I got what I wanted, feeding them didn’t matter. Mama said sharing was having good manners.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” G-double-A said. “If I keep advising you, we’re going to have to work out a payment arrangement.”

  I stared at him. I wished the warden would hurry up and get that culinary class approved so I could cook a fancy meal for Madison when I got out. I sure was glad I had that tattoo of Loretta’s name, which was on my chest, changed into a fire-breathing dragon. But I was glad it didn’t resemble one of those gang tats. Here they housed lots of members of the same gangs together to cut back on fights, stabbings, all that.

  I didn’t need to attend no GED course. Already had my diploma. Wasn’t interested in art, but some dudes drew shit better than what was in stores. Outside of earning seventeen cents an hour for doing laundry five days a week, my remaining time between eight in the morning to ten at night was spent talking on the phone or brainstorming with No Chainz and G-double-A.

  “What did you just say?” I asked, biting a chunk out of my sandwich.

  “You don’t have to pay me. Let the court-appointed standby counsel have your back on this. Since Chicago is still alive, they might be able to help you convince the judge to set bail.”

  I frowned. They’d already set my bail at $75,000.

  “Oh, that’s right,” G-double-A said, snapping his finger. “I meant to say the judge might lower your bail,” as if he’d read my mind. “What you need to do is . . . Get a pen and write this down. I’m not going to keep giving you pro bono advice for the hell of it, and I’m not telling you the same shit twice.”

  Seemed to me he was the one who needed to write shit down.

  No Chainz ran off.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “The going rate starts at two-fifty an hour, but I’ll give you the family rate of fifty dollars.”

  No Chainz returned with his journal. “I’ll take notes for you, Granville.”

  Beaux was putting change on the books for No Chainz and G-double-A so they could shop at the commissary. Recently the warden had approved iPods for inmates. The charging station was already in place on the second floor. I had my brother put enough cash into each of our accounts to make sure we were the first to get one. Finally I get to listen to my country-Western music. If I had to pay him fifty bucks an hour, I was deducting what Beaux had given him.

  “Thanks, bro,” I told No Chainz, still trying to make sense of why I had to pay this dude, since he was locked up like me.

  G-double-A said, “As long as you’re in here, the information you get on that computer to support your case is limited. They do that shit on purpose. I can get you access to all information. You feel me? The first thing you need is a ‘get out of jail’ exhibit list. The judge don’t give a damn about what you say if you can’t prove it. Consider your black ass guilty until the jury says otherwise, and even then the judge can overturn their decision.”

  I frowned. How was that? If the judge had that much power, what was the point in having a trial? I guess I did have to pay him. Maybe I should consider myself lucky to have a lawyer on the inside.

  “It’s true, dude,” G-double-A said. “So don’t get overconfident. Just when you think your black ass is on top, you may still end up doing life, because this whole town, including me, loves Chicago. And they want to see someone held accountable. Right now, all four charges are against you.”

  Why? If Chicago wasn’t dead, then why should I serve a sentence at all? “I’m innocent.”

  No Chainz slapped the pen to the pad, then sighed heavily.

  Putting No Chainz on pause, G-double-A said, “Shut up and listen. Granville, can you prove Madison had consensual sex with you?”

  I’d been holding out on mentioning the video. I’d uploaded it to a site, but I was the only one with the password to view it. The password I’d sent Chicago had expired. We didn’t have Internet access to the outside world. Our e-mails were scrutinized by staff. The only way to let these guys see it was to have Precious download it, then slip me the cell phone during visitation.

  Reluctantly I said, “Yeah.”

  “How?” he asked.

  I hesitated, then told them, “I took the videotape she recorded of us that night. I have it on, um, at my house.” That was the truth, but I didn’t want another man seeing my woman on film. That was personal.

  “You’re going to have to let us see that,” No Chainz said, gripping his stuff. “Granville, you been holding out. What else you got, man?”

  “Let’s see. I bought Loretta an engagement ring. She wouldn’t take it, but she introduced me to Madison. Madison invited me to her office, then to her house, and then she took all of her clothes off. She made me fall in love with her, and then she broke my heart by marrying another man. Isn’t that alienation of affection?” I asked.

  “Scrap that. That shit only works for women,” G-double-A said.

  “What about temporary insanity?” I was going crazy without Madison.

  “That shit ain’t temporary for you, dude. If your ass want to get out of here, you’d better think of a million reasons why the judge should let you out, and pray that one sticks.”

  Was he insulting me again? I rattled my head, hoping to come up with a good thought. The tape might work against me when they saw the ending. The judge would feel sorry for Madison, especially if the judge was a woman.

  “I know Madison wants Chicago’s money. That’s why she pulled the plug.”

  “Prove it,” G-double-A said. “You’ve got to find a way to prove you had justifiable cause.”

  I frowned. Didn’t that mean I did it? I got quiet. Think, Granville, think. Fuck!

  “I’ve got it!” I yelled.

  “Don’t keep the shit to yourself, nigga,” No Chainz said. “What the fuck is it?”

  “Bankrupt. Madison’s dad’s
company is going bankrupt. Don’t you remember the reporter asking Madison that question? Loretta went out with me, but she really didn’t want to. She wanted me to date Madison, who was engaged to Chicago.”

  I was so glad we had three flat-screen televisions in our community area. Mainly, my group liked to keep track of the news.

  “Yeah,” No Chainz said. “Because they know a brother like you loves hard, and you’re the kind of dude who would kill for his woman.”

  G-double-A slid his hand over his mouth and chin; then he started nodding.

  No Chainz wrote so hard and fast that he’d torn a hole in the paper. I felt like a celebrity.

  “They wanted me to show up at the reception and kill Chicago.”

  No Chainz stopped writing. “That’s what I just said, nigga.”

  I continued, “That way, Tyler Construction would be saved and—”

  No Chainz interrupted, “You’d be the sacrificial ham because most black folks don’t eat no lamb.”

  “Now who’s using big words,” I told him.

  G-double-A said, “Granville, I think your ignorant ass might have a case that will set you free and put these ladies behind bars. If you stage this right, a good lawyer on the outside might take your case pro bono.”

  My eyebrows lowered. If I got a lawyer on the outside, I’d have to pay two-fifty an hour. I wouldn’t need to pay G-double-A. “You ain’t slick.”

  “ ‘Pro bono’ means ‘for free,’ ” he explained.

  “I know that,” I lied. Was it “bona” or “bono”? I was frowning. “I don’t care about Loretta going to jail, but I don’t want my kid being born behind bars. Even if it means my doing time, I have to protect Madison.”

  G-double-A said, “Keep that kind of shit to yourself, dude. I’m not going to help you fuck up your case.” He got up and left.

  No Chainz followed him like he was dude’s personal assistant.

  I didn’t want to get convicted. I chased G-double-A and said, “Fifty dollars an hour is cool, man.”

  He shook my hand. “You made the right decision. Let’s do this, G.”